The Drawings Those Kids Keep Sending In
by Ohmie
Summary: These were things Tony didn't mean to do anymore. Companion to "I'm Remodeling Anyway". (Some Language)


Forgot I had this. Old now. Wrote it back before AoU and IM3. Still like it though. Some swearing. Guess it works alongside the first one. Loved all the reviews for the other one (you folks are absolutely FANTASTIC, thank you!) so I figured it wouldn't hurt to share.

Don't own anything.

* * *

Tony Stark liked people.

He liked the _right_ people.

He was also completely terrified of them.

Oh he rode on the adrenaline from saving New York, and Bruce really _was_ a welcome house guest. All the same, when he decided to return to some out-of-the-way hamlet on the other side of the world Tony let him go. Gave him a private jet ride and a Stark-i-fied phone, both to keep SHIELD off of his tail and also to keep in touch if he needed anything.

Soon as he was gone, Tony locked himself into the lab and let out the deluge that had been building in his brain. See, Tony could have seemed like a thinker. Planning, building miniature worlds of wires and metals beforehand...and to some extent he was. But more than that, he was a _doer_. Often times without thought before it.

After the adrenaline wore off, after the rubble started getting picked up and the city snapped back into workable condition. After the swarm of workers departed the tower Tony had been left to his thoughts. He had been left with empty rooms and thoughts of how different everything was now.

To be honest, with all the new terrors he had witnessed.

Tony was good at moving ahead, stepping over and jumping headlong into things. But Tony hadn't survived that long without addressing danger. Fires happened and he wasn't stupid, he planned ahead how to put them out.

To his credit he hid it by poking everything that scared him but also it was to see what it did and to build against it. Even if it was just, thoughts. Behavior. Changing the way he tagged and related to different people, knowing what doors he could keep open and what he had to lock tight. It wasn't too often that his usual process lead to actual, physical, preparation.

That's why when he came back to himself hovering over the applications of his latest, anxiety driven intelligence dump Tony somewhat panicked. Only somewhat in the sense that Tony's definition of 'panic' and 'terror' had gone through a trillion re-calculations and epiphanies...he wasn't sure _panic_ was the right word. All the same, his stomach burned with the acid of it, and his heart did backflips against the arc reactor in his chest. It didn't care what word it was, it just hammered away at the walls of what Tony knew was wrong.

"These can't exist..." he muttered, running a hand over his face and feeling the prick of stubble. JARVIS was silent, though Tony knew he was aware of just what he had made. Just as aware as Tony himself. "...I can't...why, did I make these?" But he knew the answer to that, he did.

It was like coming up against better tech, except the tech was alien. The tech was fucking _magic_ and Tony did what he always had to do. Repossess. Rebuild. Refit. He just knew that the world had suddenly gotten bigger, much, much bigger than the Ironman suit and Hammer tanks. Bigger than the Jerico. Magic could hit hard and hit close to home. A magic spear had killed Phil. Had stolen the mind of a trained agent. Of a scientist. Had tried to take his...

...he shuddered, staring at the floating, rotating spirals of data and schematics that he knew he _should not have made_. He knew he should erase them, even as he thought of where to hide them. Even as he knew he couldn't hide them, because by the law of how his life worked they would eventually be used for their purpose. And their purpose was _wrong_. This was weapon building with intent to kill, and he didn't do that anymore.

This was weapon building against _certain people_.

People he knew, and was starting to like.

He had never done that before.

But...

But...someone had almost had his brain. Someone who wouldn't have cared about mess or implications, rights or innocent life. What else could be out there? What other powers or training or _magic spells_ that he had no protection against? If he wasn't ready to fight dirty, he might do more harm. Besides, if these plans, these weapons already existed, he could work with that. He could build protection against them. That was how he worked now, wasn't it? That was what he had to plan for. Once the idea was there, it wasn't going away. It would just, sit there. On the back burner of his brain until some, alien magician came along and plucked from it a few weaponized ways to kill Captain America...

He swallowed down the bile. Swallowed hard. Let the burn rise from his chest to meet the cool seep of remembered betrayal from his brain. He was sure Fury had plans for all of them. He was sure there were ways on file because Tony Stark did _not play well with others_. Didn't, follow orders. Tony Stark would say, to hell with it and ride a nuke into a portal to somewhere-not-here and save a city full of people any day. He'd put his own morals first because there were things he didn't do anymore.

Which brought him full circle.

In the end, he hadn't ever – not in a million years - think that Obi would try to kill him. And he wasn't nearly an inch as talented at the job than say, the Black Widow or even Hawkeye were. Hell, any one of his new friends could kill him. A _normal_ person could kill him outside of his suit on a bad day (he was working on that, thank you). He had invited them into his home. He could use words like, 'trust' and 'friend' in conjunction with their names and _didn't that sound familiar_.

Locks on the lab doors weren't God tested. They weren't even Hulk tested (trying to talk Banner into that had been a very short and very tense conversation that even Tony hadn't tried to repeat). One's that even Pep couldn't get through if he set them. One's even JARVIS would have trouble with, but a Super Solider fist? A magic teleportation spell?

A turned Barton had almost taken out a whole, way-expensive helicarrier with one arrow to an engine. Natasha had already burned him (they hadn't talked about that. Would they? He didn't know if he could stomach it.)

...how could he have even thought of trusting strangers? Even after New York? After Obie...but, building _that_ wasn't the answer. He hovered over the trash icon, floating blue and harmless. He'd never be able to re-create them, these blueprints. Did he need them? He didn't need them. Did he _want_ them? Did the dark places want them...the place broken by desert heat and metal in his chest. Broken by betrayal in a place never suspected.

But if they ever found out, if they ever discovered that those cross hairs existed however metaphorical they would probably -most likely- undoubtedly _never trust him again_ , assuming he had somehow gained trust along the way to loose. Whatever could be, would be, might be, should be...these would destroy it.

Black Widow would understand. She might even, well, pat him on the back for it. But that would make him dangerous, and her thinking _he_ was dangerous was bad. SHIELD would think him...more...dangerous. (It was a different, danger alright?) Between the cold bite of disapproving Captain Wonderboy and Thor's ageless confusion (the man hung on to his brother all this time, he probably thought them all automatic bosom buddies) Tony would fall apart faster than a SHIELD firewall. Robin Hood would- he'd...actually, Tony had no idea what Clint would do...that worried him. But Bruce! Bruce was easy, Bruce would-

He groaned into his hands, imagining it all too well. Bruce would understand. He'd honestly, sincerely, look at Tony (possibly with a hand on his fucking shoulder)- look him in the eyes and say he understood. That it was okay with that little sad note that piggybacked on his voice that Tony wanted to burn into a fine ash...and...and that, that ….would, kill him. Tony would be just another one of all the people who came before. He'd be an Obie. _He never wanted to be an Obie_.

He looked down, DUM-E butting up against his leg. He splayed his fingers over his support strut, petting...thinking...the thoughts coming to him almost traitorously. He had a bunch of old, chaotic code at his fingertips. It would be like a needle in a haystack no one would ever think to look for.

"Hey...buddy. Can you uh, would you do me a favor?"

DUM-E tilted his camera up at him, questioningly.

"I need to hide something. Something, I shouldn't have, yea? And...well..." but his bot just stared up at him, and Tony felt something in him shudder loose and fall away. "Naah, nevermind buddy." He lovingly wiped a bit of oil off the camera lens with his thumb. "Hey, make me a smoothie, will you?" DUM-E gave a happy chirp and rolled away to the other side of the room, Tony watching him go. He sighed, then rested his hands behind his head, spinning in his chair a few times.

"...I'm becoming a bastard in my old age." He grouched quietly.

JARVIS responded after a moments consideration, "Less than you think Sir."

Tony let the somewhat quiet stretch over the living hum of his workshop. The whirl of the smoothie machine across the room. The sound of his own breathing in his chest...

"You think it's worth it, J?"

The quiet didn't become heavy. There was too much trust between them for that.

"We could be a part of something, something _great_. Something different and, and with people...J. Something...I mean, you've seen all the drawings those kids keep sending in..." he trailed off, knowing in his heart what he was getting at, but his brain -oddly enough- didn't seem up to the task. He fidgeted. Or it knew too well. Wanting to wonder if it was going to fail, was it going to be because of him? Because of stuff like this...because he couldn't remember how he had trusted Pep, or Rhodey. How he had started to trust Phil. Couldn't remember the steps to do it again. Because Obie was still holding him back and there was still shrapnel in his chest trying to kill him.

"I can't speak on that precisely, Sir. However I _can_ promise you this-" and Tony knew he didn't have to look up to talk to JARVIS, knew the A.I. wasn't really in the ceiling because he was _everywhere_ but his red-rimmed eyes rose anyway. "-whatever you decide Sir, I shall move everything in creation to protect you."

It was a quiet whisper of elegant words across the burning quilt of his brain, trailing cool and leaving a satisfying warmth in it's wake.

"You've already accomplished wonders, Sir. Not just technological, though I am personally grateful for those. You have _grown_ all this time, and I have the archival footage to prove it so don't tempt me Sir."

Tony shut his mouth, but his eyes were gleaming.

"They might think me just another computer, but I will show them otherwise if they attempt to take advantage of that growth. All of them. Any, of them. You have my word."

The grin that bloomed across Tony's face was four parts gratitude, two parts love, one part awe and more than a fair amount of insomnia holding it all up.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes Sir?"

"You really know how to sweet talk a guy." A pause, air taken in to let the sincerity show, "...you're the best."

"I know Sir."

Tony laughed and turned his attention back to the plans, pushing them aside with a flick of his hand.

"Start a new project J, let's undo what I've done."

"And, the original plans?"

"When I'm done...scrap 'um."

"Certainly Sir."

Tony threw himself back into his work, this time more aware. More careful. This was what he did now, help people. Make things better, especially when he was at fault the first time around. He didn't know what the Avengers would be, so he'd have to poke and watch and see. Because, while Tony didn't remember the whole myriad of steps it had taken to find his few, true friends, he had remembered some of it.

He remembered, fear. And acceptance. Hoping that the reward was worth the risk. Jumping knowing you could fly, but also that you could fall with equal certainty...but being unable to wait. Being unwilling to let the chance pass by. Being the first to try when no one else dared. Risk, and management. Responsibility, that truly terrifying thing Tony was still parsing. He remembered the feeling when it worked...seeing Pepper smile just for him and listening to Rhodey chastise him fondly for being Tony...

Tony Stark was completely terrified of people.

But since when had he let _that_ stop him?


End file.
